


Christmas in July

by ephemerallyurs



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Dom/sub Undertones, Dry Humping, Finger Sucking, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Hand & Finger Kink, M/M, Masturbation, My First Work in This Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 19:29:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16270838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemerallyurs/pseuds/ephemerallyurs
Summary: Harry blurred the first line. Louis erased it.or, Harry's mouth is perfect and Louis can't help himself.or, Harry wants to celebrate Christmas in July in a way that Louis never expected.





	Christmas in July

Harry blurred the first line. Louis erased it.

Harry insisted on a Christmas movie marathon in July because _it’s an unofficial holiday, Lou_ and _even unofficial days need celebrating, Lou-ie_. As with most situations, Louis conceded in order to humor Harry with his Christmas in July Movie Extravaganza. Which, essentially, was just the two of them on Harry's mother's couch sharing popcorn, a blanket, and made-for-tv-movies.

“Oh! This one’s a good one,” Harry said as he scrolled through his account. “She relives the same day over and over until she learns to fall in love with herself.” He looked over at Louis hopefully.

“You’ve already seen it?” Louis deadpanned. Trust Harry to rope him into watching movies he’s already watched--probably more than once. Louis secretly loved that about his best friend. Harry wanted to share all of his favorite things with him and Louis flourished under his attention as he gauged his reaction to the best parts.

“Yes and it's good. We're watching it.” Harry's tone was final. He pressed play, pulled the throw blanket from the back of the couch and settled in next to Louis. “You'll love it, I know you will,” he insisted. “Even if it's just secretly.”

Secretly. Secretly, Louis loved how not ten minutes into the first movie of an all night movie marathon, his best friend's head was already resting on his shoulder. He secretly loved how the loose curls tickled his chin and cheek, but he never said anything because he also loved those curls. He loved watching Harry attempt to eat popcorn, fist fulls at a time so that stray pieces always made their way into both of their laps. He loved when something funny happened on screen and Harry cocked his head so he could make sure Louis was laughing the appropriate amount. Secretly, so secretly Louis hadn't admitted it to himself yet, he loved Harry.

Louis stifled a whine when the movie ended and Harry's head left his shoulder as he made to get up. Harry put the bowl of popcorn on the table next to the couch closest to Louis, and then grabbed the remote and dropped it in to Louis’ lap. “You get to pick the next one,” he smiled, “I'll be right back.”

When Harry disappeared upstairs, Louis scrolled through the list of Christmas movie options. They all looked the same and equally dreadful. Truthfully, he only stopped on this particular one because the lead actor in the icon was beyond attractive. The description said something about a cursed ghost, so maybe he'd be lucky enough for this one to turn out interesting. He propped his bare feet up on the coffee table in front of him, settling in comfortably for the duration of movie number two.

Just as Louis was situated and finished picking the movie, Harry made his way down the stairs. Louis lost control of his jaw.

Harry was wearing a Christmas sweater. A tacky, God awful, ugly Christmas sweater. In July.

Louis kept his mouth shut, lest he choke on his own words. Harry rounded the couch with a smug smile on his face, obviously enjoying his little joke.

“Did you find one?” Harry asked, taking his spot next to Louis.

“Mm-hmm,” Louis hummed, looking down at Harry's reindeer and green leaves of holly. “It's a ghost story.”

Harry watched the preview of clips for a moment before turning back to face Louis. “Looks good.” He bit the inside of his cheek and added, “He's hot.”

Louis succeeded in not seething. Mostly.

One of them pressed play and not long after, Harry's head found Louis’ shoulder again. Harry sighed happily. Hot Movie Actor Guy: forgotten.

As the movie reached its climax, the sounds of Harry sniffling became more regular. “It's so tragic, Lou,” he whispered. “She loves a ghost.”

To Louis it was just a cheap, corny movie. “Yeah,” he agreed anyway, “it is.”

Louis was unaware the line was even there before Harry crossed it. Harry let out an exasperated sigh and looked in Louis’ eyes for one fleeting second. No telling what Harry saw there, but he wiggled his way down the couch and comfortably lowered his head into Louis’ lap.

Louis stiffened. True, he had thought about scenarios dangerously close to this one countless times. He had thought about it tonight while watching the first movie. What would it be like to have Harry lie in his lap, where he could tangle his fingers in those curls. Those curls that had been tickling his cheek. He'd imagined it (fantasized more like, but Louis would _never_ fathom calling his thoughts such a thing, he's not delusional), but he hadn't given thought to how he would respond. He panicked, jerking his hands away from his lap and leaving them awkwardly placed on his stomach.

Harry must've felt the tension in Louis because he turned away from the screen to look up at him. “This is okay,” he said earnestly.

Last weekend at 11:57 p.m. after leaving a dying house party that never really lived to begin with, Harry was _not ’at drunk, Lew-is_ and needed _Looou_ to help him walk to his front door where he promptly thanked him with a chest-crushing hug, bodies pressed together (sober Louis clearing his throat), and a lingering wet kiss to the cheek by Harry who had the audacity to end with a _is this okay?_ as if Louis would ever be _okay_ after having walking-sex-dream Harry's lips on him. This time Harry was not too drunk to remember in the morning and he was saying it--not asking.

Louis was left gaping, not knowing what to do, say, or how to react. Harry gave him a knowing, cheeky smile. He knew Louis was at a loss. They both turned back to the movie, Harry nestling his cheek into Louis’ thigh and fixing the blanket around his body.

Okay. Okay, this was okay. Everything was fucking _okay_. Louis just needed something to occupy his attention. The movie. Right. He focused back on the screen at the flashback scene where plot holes were probably being filled, answering questions that Louis should have had about a movie that he should have been watching with a boy whose head should _not_ have been in his lap.

He needed another distraction, so he reached into the popcorn bowl and pulled out a fist full. He used his tongue to lick the pieces into his mouth one at a time. The snack worked as a diversion from Harry’s head until said boy made a noise of protest.

Louis’ insides incinerated. Harry’s mouth hung open, tongue out, in a wordless invitation for the popcorn. His tongue was wide and wet and pink, which essentially could describe anyone’s tongue, but for Louis this tongue was wide, wet, pink, _and_ perfect. Because he was not one to deny such perfection, he fed him one piece at a time as they both watched the movie (Louis less so) until his palm was empty.

Louis counted himself lucky for having survived the exchange when Harry broke into his reverie and said, “More please,” with his fucking obscene tongue once again out. It shouldn’t have been as seductive as Louis’ prick found it.

On the third and last handful, Harry began stealing pieces to pop into Louis’ waiting mouth. Harry mostly missed, which threw them both into giggle fits each time a piece bounced off Louis’ nose or forehead. He probably did it on purpose.

Just as Louis was admitting to himself that he quite liked this movie and celebrating Christmas in July, Harry found another line to disintegrate.

“’M hot,” he mumbled, leaning up enough to pull the offending sweater over his head. Louis was both disappointed and relieved at the white tee shirt left underneath. “Are you hot?” Harry asked when he laid back down. He looked up at him with a crooked smile.

Louis didn't know what to do, how to respond. All he could think about was _more please_. He stared back down at him, like he was a lost man and Harry’s blown pupils held all Life’s answers.

It was so much, too much. Louis had to look away. His stare settled on Harry's lips, the bottom one currently sucked between his teeth. Instinctively--or because Louis lacked all self control--Louis’ hand moved from where it rested on his own stomach up to Harry's mouth with the intention to pull Harry's lip from the vice of his teeth. With the tip of his index finger, Louis lightly tugged his lip free. And because Louis’ praxis of friendship rights and wrongs was warped when Harry decided to pillow his head in his lap, Louis kept that finger pressed to the fullest part of Harry's bottom lip. And then--

Then Harry kissed it. The pad of Louis’ finger. Harry actually _kissed it_. Didn't he? So slightly Louis couldn't be sure, Harry’s lips twitched. That was a kiss. He definitely kissed him. Harry kissed Louis.

He kept that single finger placed on Harry's mouth, experimentally pulling the lip down again. Maybe he could coax another kiss out of him, make one hundred percent sure that's actually what happened. Breath uneven and shallow, Louis drew his lip down, wiggling it left and right, playing with it. He braved meeting Harry's eyes again as he brought his middle finger up next to the first one. Harry's tongue decided to join as well.

It met only the tips of his two fingers, but the wet sensation sent heat directly to his cock anyway. His cock, where Harry's head rested with just two layers of fabric serving as a barrier. His fucking cock, that he just now noticed was on its way to half hard status. The realization startled Louis; he made to remove his hand. This had gone too far. Too many lines vanished. Nothing that had happened so far was beyond the making of a joke. Stop now and it could all be laughed at tomorrow.

But Harry had the opposite reaction. He gasped and sucked the two digits into his mouth, right to the first set of knuckles. Louis squeaked, eyes darting from Harry's mouth to eyes, not sure where his attention should lie.

Harry's tongue forced his fingers apart, sucking at the empty space between. Louis slipped them in further, instinctively chasing the warmth of his mouth, and Harry positively _mewled._ The sound vibrated through Louis’ nerves, blood racing to his dick. With his free hand, Louis pushed Harry's hair away from his forehead and kept his fingers tangled in his curls.

Ghostly love fantasies forgotten, Harry continued licking into the “V” of Louis’ fingers until he reached the last knuckle. Louis watched as Harry worked with concentration, wondering if his friend was as hard as he was. Harry had to have felt him rock hard on the back of his head. He needed relief, to touch himself, but he wanted his hands on Harry more, even if that meant keeping his other hand twisted tightly in his curls. He had an idea to try something. With Louis still in his mouth, Harry's tongue reached out to wet his palm at the same time Louis bucked his hips up and pulled Harry's curls down.

Louis groaned at the feeling of alleviated pressure while Harry let out a whimper. Louis immediately removed both hands off his friend from fear of hurting him.

“No,” Harry groaned in a whisper, wrapping a hand around Louis’ wrist. “I like it.” He grouped three of Louis’ fingers and drank them into his mouth just as he pressed his head down into Louis’ lap.

“Ah, fuck, Harry,” he moaned, tangling his hand into his curls again. Harry sucked with his teeth in response. Louis hissed and Harry soothed the spot with his lips and a lewd amount of spit, using the hand still around Louis’ wrist to pull his hand back.

“More,” Harry said. God, his voice was wrecked. Louis wanted to positively _wreck_ Harry, which was definitely a new thought. He wanted to see how far he could push him. See how much Harry could take. How _filthy_ they could make it. The mere _thought_ of Harry gagging on his fingers, indecent with spit, dripping down his chin, sent his hips bucking unconsciously.

“You want more?” Louis rasped. Harry opened his mouth wide, drooling.

“Please,” he begged.

Louis obliged and added his pinky finger. Harry keened, using the leverage of his hand around Louis’ wrist to push the fingers in further and gently rock them back out. Louis got the hint and took over the motion of fucking Harry's mouth with his fingers while simultaneously pulling on Harry's hair to put pressure on his painfully hard cock.

As Louis entered Harry’s throat he slowed his motions. His tongue was slick back there, wetter than the rest of his mouth and Louis imagined his fingers were his dick fucking Harry into gagging. Using the pads of his middle two fingers, he caressed at the feeling of Harry’s smooth throat. He pressed down as Harry swallowed around him. The tight, constricting movement had Louis grinding into Harry, the urge to put a hand on himself overwhelming.

Harry’s eyes watered and he choked. The last thing Louis wanted was to hurt him, so he withdrew the four fingers from his throat. Louis watched in awe as Harry’s glassy eyes came into focus, his expression colored in confusion. He pulled out and ran his dry thumb over Harry’s messy chin. Harry made an indignant sound.

“Please, Lou,” he said, biting his bottom lip again. His voice was absolutely ruined.

He wiped his wet thumb on the blanket still tucked in around Harry. “What do you want?” he asked. He’d give him anything; if he wanted more than just Louis’ fingers, he could have it. Louis’ dick twitched in confirmation.

Harry didn’t reply with words. He tapped Louis’ elbow and opened his mouth wide, inviting him back in with his generous tongue. Three of his fingers entered eagerly. Harry moaned in pleasure.

If someone told Louis a week ago that he could come from having his fingers sucked off, he’d have scoffed at the idea with an added middle finger as a bonus. Now he was sure that if Harry’s messy, dirty mouth kept up these ministrations for another minute, he would be coming in his sweats.

Louis let Harry control the pace this time, stopping his hand as his lips reached the second knuckle. Harry swallowed his spit down and a high-pitched whimper escaped his throat. Louis’ eyes shot up to Harry’s. His eyes were closed tight, eyebrows furrowed. Harry became more vocal, eyes still shut, than he had been when Louis’ fingers first teased his tongue. Harry grunted, huffing short puffs of air out through his nose.

Harry’s lips loosened from around his knuckles. “ _Ungh_ , Lou,” he mumbled. His eyes opened, tears escaping down his temples. Fuck, this was too much. “ _Louis, please_ ,” he begged, looking down his own body pointedly. Louis’ gaze followed.

He couldn’t see because the blanket covered him, but he watched as Harry’s hands worked over himself slowly. Agonizingly slow. “Lou,” Harry whined again, drawing out the vowel. Louis kept his attention on the action under the blanket. He fucked his fingers a bit into his mouth, thinking that’s what Harry wanted. Harry grazed his knuckles, sighing exaggeratedly. “No,” he moaned, “I need--”

 _Oh._ Louis realized then, Harry was asking for _permission._ Louis’ eyes snapped back to look at Harry, at how _gone_ he was, at how much he _needed_ , at his tear blurry face and puffy lips. Louis’ fingers tightened in his curls, keeping him in place as he snapped his hips once, twice, and came, silently throwing his head back without breaking eye contact.

He came down and saw Harry’s desperate wordless pleading. The boy needed release and he was waiting for Louis’ _permission._ Oh, God.

Louis filled his mouth and Harry sucked, making an even bigger mess of it. “You can come,” Louis whispered, not trusting his own voice. He’d never told another person to get off like that--on command. He found that he _liked_ it. “Come for me.”

Harry nodded, lips tight around Louis. The pace of his strokes quickened. Louis tried to match his pace with his own rhythm in Harry’s mouth, rubbing down at the back of his tongue. His breath caught on a whimpered groan and his eyes flew open to find Louis, tears escaping over the rim. He came quietly, sucking hard.

When his breathing slowed, Louis withdrew from his lips, dried his fingers on the blanket and then pushed Harry’s curls off his damp forehead.

He studied Harry's face for a reaction to the scene that had unfolded. He seemed blissed, cheeks flushed and eyelids fluttering. A generous amount of spit coated his chin so Louis wiped him dry as best he could, letting his fingers linger on swollen lips, savoring. His eyes opened after a moment.

“Hey, Lou,” he said, voice rough and eyes drooping, calling for sleep.

“Hmm?”

“’M messy.” His nose scrunched up in distaste as he jostled his hands under the blanket. Louis recognized the familiar moist stickiness between his own legs. He feared moving, though, worried that some kind of magic would break, that the moment would be ruined and he’d never get another one if he left this spot.

He hesitated. “Um, ’kay, I’ll get something to clean you up, yeah?”

“’Kay,” Harry replied, but didn’t move to let Louis leave. He sighed again, a content little sound, eyes closed. He was beautiful. Louis looked up to the rolling credits of a movie of which he’d never know the ending. “Hey, Lou?”

“Hmm?”

Harry’s head turned to nuzzle into Louis’ stomach. “If I were a ghost, I’d for sure haunt you.”

Louis giggled. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling. “Merry Christmas.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so so much for reading. I would love your comments and kudos and constructive feedback. 
> 
> Thank you Melissa and Ry for being the best and most supportive friends and beta readers a girl could ask for. This one's for you xx they're both on twitter: @eversinceuanx @inlikewithlouis
> 
> Again, thank you!


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